


talking to the moon (trying to get to you)

by heart_nouveau



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Late Night Conversations, Post-Canon, mentions of mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_nouveau/pseuds/heart_nouveau
Summary: Following Sansa’s gaze, Margaery also stared out over their apartment balcony, though it was nothing too spectacular. There was nothing in that view to merit the way Sansa was staring at the moon like it held all of life’s answers, or as if she were trying to predict the next lunar eclipse.





	

 

Margaery woke up alone at 2 a.m., shivering in the queen bed she and Sansa had bought together when they moved in. It still felt too big, too new.

For a moment she closed her eyes and considered going back to sleep. With one ear pressed against the pillow, her breathing amplified in the cool silence of the bedroom, it was easy to pretend there was nothing and no one else in the world.

But a chill lingered in the air, a thin piercing cold, the kind that she hated, the kind it felt like she’d never get used to no matter how long she lived here.

The cold wasn’t going anywhere. Margaery finally rolled onto her side and sat up. She grabbed the fluffy robe that hung on the back of the bedroom door, looped her hair into a messy knot, and moved into the hallway.

In the bluish moonlight that fell into the living room she saw, as expected, the familiar shape of her girlfriend curled up under a blanket. Outside, Sansa had made herself small on one of the pieces of cheap plastic furniture the previous tenants had left behind.

The sliding door to the balcony was slightly ajar, which was the source of the chill. Margaery bit her lip in irritation that yielded to worry: Sansa had grown up in the cold, but she would get sick sitting out in the middle of the night like that.

Margaery reached out and tapped lightly on the glass. Sansa startled and looked around, wide-eyed, her beautiful autumn-colored hair falling loose and wild down her back. Margaery felt guilty for surprising her girlfriend, but this was the mildest way to do it. Sansa was naturally jumpy as it was.

She slid open the door and stepped out onto the tiny balcony, silently thanking herself for wearing fuzzy socks and several layers of pajamas to bed. Although that was more by necessity than by choice, as she had no desire to freeze to death. Sansa teased her that she had thin Southern blood; it was probably true.

“Sans, you have to get up early tomorrow,” Margaery said softly. She reached out and cupped her girlfriend’s face in one hand. Sansa’s skin felt cold.

Sansa rolled her shoulders back and stared up at Margaery. Her face was pale and tired. “I know. But I couldn’t sleep, and…”

Sansa’s voice and gaze trailed away, until she was again staring out over the balcony. The moon was full tonight. She’d probably been watching it like a wolf—like a werewolf, Margaery liked to tease her. Sansa was funny about stuff like that; she admitted to knowing all sorts of constellations and planetary movements that her dad had taught her when she was a kid. She’d shared that only once, which was about as much as Sansa ever talked about her old life, but Margaery was an expert at picking up those little details and committing them to memory. She’d become a Sansa memoirist, putting together the hints and half-stories to fit them into the puzzle that was her girlfriend.

Fighting against the cold, Margaery leaned over and put her arms around Sansa’s neck, settling into place on her girlfriend’s lap. Sansa was younger but taller, and Margaery used to tell her that she could’ve been a model just to see her blush. That was early in their relationship, when Sansa could hardly take a compliment without apologizing her way out of it. Things had gotten better, so much that Margaery glowed with pride to think how far they’d come—but there was still the sleeping thing, and so much more.

Margaery herself had always slept soundly—not for lack of a guilty conscience, but due to her basic biology. Even her new live-in girlfriend’s messy sleep schedule, riddled with anxiety, neuroses, and scars far beyond anything Margaery had ever been equipped to deal with, couldn’t change that. It made her feel oddly culpable.

Following Sansa’s gaze she also looked out at the view, though it was nothing too spectacular. They lived in the middle of the city, and had an eighth-floor view of the nearby lake and all of its surrounding trees stripped of their leaves. There was nothing in that view to merit the way Sansa was staring at the moon like it held all of life’s answers, or as if she were trying to predict the next lunar eclipse.

“Babe,” Margaery began, pressing her nose against Sansa’s cheek, “I’m cold.”

Sansa turned to look at her, still distant, but with something coalescing in her eyes. Like she was coming back to earth. “Marg, you love our bed. We got that special mattress just for you.”

“Oh, our bed’s great. It’s just so much better when _you’re_ in it to keep me warm.” Margaery shifted closer, cuddling up. “And I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

That made Sansa smile a little, and Margaery felt gratified. Then she stuck one chilly hand up Margaery’s shirt, making Margaery jump and shriek. Sansa gave a husky breath of laughter. “You’re always cold.”

“You made me cold,” Margaery complained. She batted Sansa hard on the shoulder. “Mean.”

“Sorry.” Sansa didn’t sound sorry at all, but she was engaging. Good.

“After I moved all the way to this frozen wasteland for you.” With a sudden rush of feeling, Margaery cupped Sansa’s face, kissed Sansa’s full mouth. Something lush stirred in her chest, honey-sweet and sticky with fondness. A sweet kind of love, mixed with a tickle of the irritation that came with welcoming someone into your life completely. A love strong enough that it might just last forever. Margaery did think about that, sometimes.

Sansa stroked a hand down Margaery’s spine and turned slightly away; the corners of her lips turned up, but she wasn’t smiling. It was an unhappy expression.

Suddenly weary, Margaery rested her forehead against Sansa’s. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked quietly. “Did you do your journal pages this morning? Reflect, meditate, all that stuff? Think about what your therapist told you to try last time?”

Sansa let out a low sigh. “Yeah, I did.” She pulled away, leaning back against the deck chair. Her loose thermal top fell slightly, revealing a wide expanse of creamy skin and the dragonfly necklace she always wore. Worried about the cold, Margaery pressed her palm over the exposed skin and Sansa’s pale eyes flicked to her, sweetly depthless and unknowable, like frozen ice that sealed over the top of a lake. “I’m just thinking.”

Margaery nuzzled Sansa’s cheek and kissed her neck, wondering how even in the frosty weather, Sansa always stayed warm. “Okay. Tomorrow I have proceedings until late, but I can make the vegetable soup that you like, and we can watch _All About Eve._ Does that sound good?”

Loras had sent her the recipe, said that his boyfriend was raving about it. Although Margaery hadn’t really told Sansa, it was hard to be so far from her family and everyone she’d grown up with in the South. She felt like an uprooted plant, and not being in the same city as her favorite brother was like missing a limb. But it was worth it to see Sansa flourish, regain the color in her cheeks, and smile again—even if Sansa’s smiles were interspersed with frowns, and her words mixed with long slow silences.

Family in the North meant something different. Sansa’s half-brother Jon came around sometimes, and the rest of Sansa's remaining family lived up here, and that was important. But most of all, Sansa needed to live as an adult in the place she hadn’t been prepared to leave as a child. So when choosing between her many post-law school offers, Margaery had made the hardest decision of her life and left the Reach and King’s Landing behind her, instead coming to clerk for a distinguished elderly judge in a place she’d never known but was determined to love, for Sansa’s sake.

“When it starts snowing, I’ll take you to Maiden’s Tower Park,” Sansa said a little dreamily, turning to face Margaery. “We always used to go sledding there.”

Sledding honestly sounded unenjoyable, but Margaery was prepared to try. “All right,” she agreed softly, pressing another kiss against Sansa’s lips. “But will you _please_ come back to bed now?”

They padded back to the bedroom together, sliding the balcony doors shut and locked behind them. In their bed, Sansa snuggled up close as Margaery drew the covers over them, spooning tightly against Margaery’s back in the way that made Margaery feel safe and warm. They were each other’s safety in this cold, difficult place. Even though the winter made Margaery’s very bones cold, she would do anything for Sansa.

“Marg?” she heard Sansa say, voice warm and muffled against the curve of Margaery’s back. Her hand wrapped around Margaery’s waist, lacing fingers through Margaery’s and squeezing tight.

“Thank you,” Sansa said softly, and Margaery smiled.

“Of course. I love you,” she added, lifting Sansa’s hand draped loosely over her body, and kissing the knuckles.

“I know," Sansa whispered back.

And Margaery laughed. “Good.”

She felt Sansa tuck her nose into her hair, breathing evenly, and night settled over the two of them like a blanket.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this a few years ago, while living in a foreign country, never having been in a serious relationship, and very closeted. And... I edited it tonight next to my girlfriend sleeping in our bed, in the apartment we share in my hometown (which is indeed very cold right now). 
> 
> I genuinely hope that everyone reading this finds or has found a person who loves you enough to work through all your shit with you. You deserve that - we all do. It may be harder for girls who love girls to find someone to be with, but I think there is so much beauty in what we have. There are so many good things about being gay, bisexual, or queer. I for one would be a far less compassionate, more judgmental person were I straight... and who has time for that?
> 
> Okay, there's my sappy personal note. This could be considered a sequel to my last [story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9369761), though much angstier! Title from the song of the same name by Bruno Mars. Comments and feedback (and personal stories) always very welcome. <3


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